


Rey Plays Solo

by dawninthemtn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Instagram DMers to Lovers, Many "Solo" Puns Used, Musicians, Paris - Freeform, YouTube musicians, extreme fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawninthemtn/pseuds/dawninthemtn
Summary: Ben is a well-known pianist, with best-selling albums, tours, and millions of YouTube subscribers. He's never once done a collaboration with any other artist, but he feels compelled to reach out to emerging YouTube musician Rey, a girl who has never taken a music lesson but plays like she was born to do it.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 156
Kudos: 172





	1. Music and Muppets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IvvyQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvvyQueen/gifts).



> This fic is a gift for the Wholesome Reylo Content discord exchange. Thank you, Ivanna, for the lovely moodboard! I hope you enjoy the story!
> 
> I can't seem to stop writing YouTubers, despite knowing nothing about that world. (But I am a pianist, so at least I have that.)

Ben first spotted her on a list of suggested videos attached to one of his own.

She popped out because he had been in this game for so long that he had gotten used to seeing the same videos show up again and again. He had watched all of them at some point. The artists were talented, entertaining even, but he still had the most views and subscribers in their space.

So when her video showed up on the sidebar with an unfamiliar thumbnail and image, he did a double take.

_UNTRAINED SESSIONS - Rey Takes Requests_

_ReyPlays_

Curious, he clicked.

She certainly hadn’t gotten views because of her stunning production value. In fact, it looked like a rudimentary guitar video from Myspace in 2004. It was just a girl against a white wall, sitting at a table, holding her guitar.

“Hi guys!” she said. “It’s Rey again! Today I’m taking your requests. I’ve gotten a lot in my videos’ comments, and today I’m going to try to play as many of them as I can.”

She was British, Ben noted.

“Finn has compiled me a list of some of these requests,” she said. “Say hi, Finn!”

The camera shuffled a bit and a dark hand stuck out in front of the screen and waved.

“I’ve never seen the list before. I’m nervous because I’m sure I don’t know a lot of them. So I’ve got Spotify here to play them first.” She tapped a laptop on the table.

“For those who haven’t seen any of my videos, I’ll give some quick background. I’ve never taken a real music lesson in my life. But I discovered growing up that I can play anything by ear, on guitar or piano. Today we’re going to find out if you guys can stump me for the first time.”

She picked up a white envelope and waggled it around dramatically before pulling out a piece of paper.

“Drum roll,” she said, shoving her strapped guitar aside and drumming on her jeans-clad thighs. “All right, first we’ve got a request from HappyHippo16 - well okay, then, I’m glad the hippo is happy - and it’s ‘Lover’ by Taylor Swift. I definitely don’t need to listen to that one.”

She smiled, and Ben rolled his eyes.

She put her guitar in place and played a bit of the song. Ben leaned in, watching her fingers carefully. She wasn’t bad. Unpolished, perhaps, but for someone (allegedly) playing on the spot, it was impressive.

“Next we’ve got zackr518 with ‘Needle in the Hay’ by Elliott Smith. I have no idea what that is, so off to Spotify we go.” 

The video fast-forwarded here and went back to normal speed as Rey took a deep breath and began playing. Ben knew the song, so he could verify that she sounded near perfect.

She was either a prodigy, or was pulling their chains hard.

The rest of the video was the same. She played four more songs, two she knew, and two she claimed not to.

Ben clicked on the next suggested video - _UNTRAINED SESSIONS - Rey Takes Requests Part 2._ Then he clicked on the third, the fourth. There were a lot of videos in the series; it appeared she had found her hit format. Some of them were against that white wall, playing for Internet commenters, and some were on city streets, where she took requests from strangers passing by. A couple videos were of her in a piano store, impressing the customers.

Her comment sections were a mishmash of people amazed by her talent, and people skeptical that she wasn’t trained.

Ben, however, knew she was telling the truth about her lack of lessons. It was clear from her playing, especially on piano. Her fingerings were so odd that he couldn’t believe they even worked. If he had ever tried that, his piano teachers would have had a fit and forced him to do scales until his fiftieth birthday. But somehow, she made beautiful music happen.

He was far less well-positioned to comment on her guitar skills, having only taken a few lessons as a teenager. (He had quit once he could muddle his way through a few Dashboard Confessional songs, which he had played in his college dorms in an extremely misguided attempt to woo girls.

If there was something rattling around in the recesses of his brain that he could choose to pluck out and never revisit, it would be that, but the embarrassing memory still reared its head from time to time, usually at about three in the morning.)

Still, his limited experience was enough to convince him that she was truly untrained. Whether she was really playing off the cuff, or whether the requests were plants, was another question.

He clicked on another video. Rey played a song he didn’t know, and neither did she. She fumbled it at one point, and started laughing at herself.

She had dimples.

“Sorry, friends,” she said to the camera. “I lost my way a bit there. Country’s not really my scene, but that was a lovely song. I’m glad I got to hear it. What’s next?”

Ben’s phone buzzed. He leaped off his office chair, like whoever was calling him could see through the phone and catch him staring at his computer screen from an inch away.

It was Hux.

_Shit._ How much time had he spent watching these videos? He was supposed to be working on his arrangements, not bingeing low-production videos starring a talented girl with shining eyes…

He shook his head fiercely, and grabbed the phone on the last ring.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way,” he said in a rush, skipping a greeting. He practically ran out of his apartment, snatching his coat by the door. “Sorry I’m late, subway delays, you know, damn MTA. Be there in twenty.”

He hung up without waiting for Hux’s response and ordered an Uber.

Inside the car, he barked out instructions to the driver before making a big show of sticking in his AirPods, lest the driver try to talk to him. He pulled up his YouTube history and found the video that Hux had interrupted.

He clicked on Rey’s info and looked for any way to message her, not examining his actions too closely. The only promising thing he could find was a link to an Instagram page. Hux usually took care of Ben’s Instagram, but Ben had access and had looked at it once or twice.

He scrolled through her photos, where she smiled at him from an alleyway, a piano store, a decrepit stoop, and _Washington Square_? Was she in New York?

He hadn’t recognized any of the places in her videos, but even a native like himself hadn’t been to every place in the city. His scroll speed increased until he found another photo, months earlier, of her playing for a crowd at Grand Central.

They were nearing Hux’s place, so Ben frantically sought the “message” button, riding out an impulse. 

<message to _ReyPlays_ from _PlayingSolo_ > Hi, I saw your videos and I was impressed. I’m a musician with a YouTube channel, too. You can find the link in my bio if you want to check it out. Have you ever thought of doing a collaboration?

\---

Rey regularly got DMs on her Instagram. They varied greatly, from young girls asking for tips on getting followers, to creepy old men asking if she’d film in the nude. Most of the time she deleted messages without responding. 

She was going through a DM cleanse when she spotted his message. He had sent it a week before. It wasn’t the first request she’d gotten for a collab. She usually clicked on the asker’s page and quickly figured out that they were desperate for a leg up.

Not this time, though.

Her jaw dropped as she looked him up. Ben Solo was his name, but he called himself “The Soloist.” It made her wonder if Solo was even his real last name or if it was all a big gimmick. He was a pianist, an absolutely incredible one.

He had gained his following by doing elaborate piano versions of popular songs, ranging from famous movie soundtracks to pop music to classic rock. His arrangements were amazing, and his talent was other-worldly. Sometimes his fingers moved so fast she could barely follow them. She understood why he had so many views and subscribers. Upon further investigation, she found numerous studio albums on Spotify, and figured out that he had just wrapped up a successful tour.

Some of his videos were just him playing in a glossy studio, light gleaming off the polished black Steinway grand, his shiny black wavy hair quivering as he played with passion. He had an interesting face. On some of his more intense numbers, he looked positively murderous, his eyebrows knit and his lips tight. But on other, slower numbers, his face was serene and soft, making him look much younger and peaceful.

He was beautiful.

His other videos were practically Hollywood blockbuster-quality. He played on grand pianos atop a waterfall in Brazil, overlooking the Grand Canyon, under the Northern Lights… Rey couldn’t even imagine how much they cost to produce, but they gathered hundreds of millions of views.

What on Earth did he want with her?

As far as she could tell, as she fell down the rabbithole of every video he had ever posted, he had never performed with anyone else. He certainly didn’t call himself The Soloist for nothing.

The next morning, Ben Solo was all she could think about, and not just because she was tired from staying up late watching all his videos. By lunchtime, she had finally decided to reach out. He (or whoever had sent the message) had never followed up, but her curiosity burned too hot to let it go unanswered.

She typed out a response with one hand while she ate her sandwich with the other.

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > Hey man, I didn’t see this when you sent it. Idk why you want to collab with me? Like i’m flattered and all but you seem to be doing okay on your own

She closed out of Instagram, but she had barely started reading an online article when she got a response.

<message to _ReyPlays_ > Hi Rey. Thank you for responding to my note. Like I said, I am very impressed by your talent. I think the fact that you’re untrained would present an interesting contrast to my highly trained playing style. We could make a really neat video I think.

She scoffed at “highly trained playing style.”

<message to _PlayingSolo > _So you want me to make you look good

<message to _ReyPlays_ > That’s not it at all! I’ve watched all your videos. You’re a natural. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’ve been surrounded by musical geniuses my entire life.

He had watched all her videos? Her heart skipped a beat. She kicked herself for being stupid, and tapped out a cheeky response.

<message to _PlayingSolo >_ Ooh, big fan, huh? What’s your favorite?

<message to _ReyPlays_ > Probably when you played “Three Little Birds” by Bob Marley. My mom sang that to me as a lullaby when I was little. I hadn’t thought of that song in so long

Ignoring the fact that he was the type of guy to use proper quotation marks in a social media message, she smiled at the image of this clearly very large man thinking about his mom singing to him as he watched her video.

She wondered what that would be like, to enjoy music because of the memories it invoked, instead of using music as an escape from them.

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > i’m glad

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > wait hold up

<message to _ReyPlays_ > What?

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > is this Ben I’m talking to? Or a manager or

<message to _ReyPlays_ > This is Ben. My manager Hux also has access to this account, and he usually deals with it, but I’ve sent you every message.

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > but you’re like a celebrity

<message to _ReyPlays_ > Hardly.

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > whatever. Prove it.

<message to _ReyPlays_ > Prove what?

<message to _PlayingSolo >_ prove that you’re actually Ben Solo. Take a picture of yourself making the duck face

He seemed like the kind of guy who would despise such a pose. She was maybe burning a bridge with the guy who could help her get more views than she could dream of, but something about the way he was talking to her made her think that somehow, miraculously, she had the upper hand.

A moment later, he sent her a photo. Did he really do it? Excitedly, she opened it. Ben Solo himself had taken a terrible selfie, angle all wrong, with his abnormally plushy lips sticking out in a wretched imitation of a duck.

It was the ugliest, cutest thing she had ever seen.

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > dude i can’t believe you trusted me with such a photo. I could blast this online in like five seconds

<message to _ReyPlays_ > I guess so.

She noticed that he was sitting at his piano in the photo.

<message to _PlayingSolo > _I won’t spam it out on one condition. You need to film yourself playing something, just for me

<message to _ReyPlays_ > I can do that. What is your favorite song?

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > of all time?

She didn’t have a favorite song. How could one ever choose? She grinned, an idea forming.

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > it’s a weird one

<message to _ReyPlays_ > I can do weird.

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > it’s that song from the muppets. Manamana

<message to _ReyPlays_ > Manamana?

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > yeah, you know, manamana doo doo doo doo doo…

A couple minutes went by with no response, and she figured she had sufficiently scared him off. Finn and Rose would be furious with her that she wasted what could have been an awesome opportunity, but she was still skeptical about the whole thing anyway.

She was tossing out her lunch wrappings when her phone buzzed.

<message to _ReyPlays_ > Sorry that took a minute. I had to look up the song (which, by the way, I learned is is actually spelled Mahna Mahna, but Google figured out what I was getting at)

<message to _ReyPlays_ > Now I’m trying to figure out how to send a video in this thing. Let me try.

VIDEO ATTACHED

Rey’s break was over, but there was no way she wasn’t watching this, right now. His video was about a minute long, a jazzy rendition of the weird Muppets song. At the end, his phone fell off wherever he had propped it up, and she got a final view of his panicked face from above the phone.

He was sure lucky that he wasn’t a one-man-show when it came to his real videos.

“Rey!” Her boss, Unkar Plutt, stuck his head into the storage closet that he called a breakroom. “Customer needs you. Looks like they have money.” He paused. “Don’t look too happy about it. You’re not on commission, girl.”

Even Plutt couldn’t bring her down. Still smiling, she went to help the customer. The second she could, she went behind the counter and sneakily pulled out her phone.

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > omg. I can’t believe you actually played it

<message to _ReyPlays_ > You asked me to. It’s your favorite song, remember? I can only imagine that I’ve brought a tear to your eye.

She grinned.

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > yes, you’ve moved me, truly

The “rich” customer came up holding a hideous tiny fat baby angel figurine that she had once Snapchatted to her friends with the caption “who would ever buy this.” 

“Would you take $3 for this?” asked the customer. 

_I would pay_ you _$3 to take it,_ thought Rey, but she nodded slowly, like she was seriously considering whether to give the fifty percent discount.

She rang up the customer, noting with inward glee how disappointed Plutt would be when he found out how little she’d bought. Her eyes circled the now-empty storefront before dropping to read a message she had felt her phone receive.

<message to _ReyPlays_ > I think it’s your turn. I played you a song. Now I think you need to play one, too

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > sorry mate, i’m at work

<message to _ReyPlays_ > You have a job?

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > uhhhh yeah. I live in new york. It’s damn expensive ya know

<message to _ReyPlays_ > Yes, I know. I’ve never lived anywhere but. What do you do?

Rey looked despondently around the pitiful shop.

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > i work at a pawn shop. Not glamorous, but i gotta eat. And we get instruments a lot, so that’s cool. I play on them sometimes when things are quiet

Weirdly, Rey felt disappointed that Plutt was still somewhere in the store. She wanted to ask Ben what his favorite song was, and hopefully make him smile, too. Maybe he’d play along with the joke and send her an absurd song to play. He seemed to possess some level of a sense of humor.

She supposed she could message him when she got home. But then she had an even better idea, and she felt just bold enough to suggest it.

<message to _PlayingSolo_ > tell you what tho. We’re doing a video at a park in upper manhattan on saturday afternoon. Come by, and i’ll play whatever you want

<message to _ReyPlays_ > Tell me when and where and I’ll be there.  
  
  
  



	2. DMs and Dinosaurs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am sorry I abandoned this fic for so long. It's just been such a strange year. But I'm giving it my full attention and can't wait to wrap up this happy little tale! Thank you so much for your patience.

Ben’s phone buzzed with a message, but he didn’t have to reach far to read it. He kept his phone next to his thigh on his piano bench, sure to alert him as he puzzled through a new arrangement .

He smiled when he saw who had sent it. There had been a few disappointments over the past few days: texts from his mom, Hux, his dry cleaner… But this one was what he was hoping for.

Message from Rey:  _ I’ve never been on a motorcycle or any kind of motorized bike or scooter _

He needed to play his part here, but he quickly quipped back, “ **_What kind of European are you_ ** _?” _

“ _ I know _ ,” she replied, adding a smiling emoji. Then she prompted, “ _ Have you?” _

Ben enjoyed the continuation of their little game. On Monday, when she had responded to his Instagram DM on her lunch break, he had been elated. Then she had invited him to listen to her play in person on Saturday, and he had thought that he wouldn’t hear from her before then.

But that night, she had messaged him again after she finished work, and they chatted so long that they eventually swapped phone numbers. 

Their game had started when they talked about Rey’s hometown of London, with Rey admitting she had never been on the London Eye. Ben offered the fact that he had never been on a ferris wheel at all, and their ongoing game of “Never Have I Ever” was born.

It was unlike any version Ben had played back in college, where the purpose had always seemed to be getting everyone drunk and calling each other out on their various sexual proclivities and misadventures. (Ben had stayed remarkably sober in these games.) 

It was far more innocent with Rey, more like a get to know you game than anything. He was grateful for it, as he wouldn’t have ever known how to continue a conversation without it. He learned a lot about her that way. He was able to relate to some of her ‘nevers,’ such as never having a sibling or skydiving, but others made him feel a little guilty. She had never traveled outside of the UK or New York (he had been to six continents), taken a college course (he had graduated from Julliard), or opened a credit card (he hadn’t even responded to that one). 

He knew she didn’t mean to make him feel bad, and he wondered if she, like him, simply wanted to keep the conversation going. He in turn offered that he had never been to the Statue of Liberty, despite being (or maybe because he was) a lifelong New Yorker, eaten a cronut, been skiing, been camping, been under anesthesia, or skateboarded. 

He typed a response to Rey. Maybe a couple days before, he would have glossed over the details of his response, but he felt more comfortable now.

**_When I was growing up, we almost always summered in the city, because my mom's work got busy then. But I spent one summer with my dad in the Hamptons. He wanted us to bond, so he had this great and terrible idea to get into dirt biking._ **

He had been twelve and terrified of the bikes and endless Fox Racing gear that his dad had procured but had soldiered on, desperate for approval.

**_I broke my wrist on our first try so I couldn’t practice piano for months. My mom was pissed._ **

_ Ouch _

**_Yeah. So that was the end of my illustrious dirt biking career._ **

_ So you haven’t been on anything since? _

**_No way. I wouldn’t touch one with a ten foot pole. I need at least another twenty years to shake the fear._ **

_ Pity. I think you could pull off the biker look _

Ben chuckled and rubbed his neck with his free hand. He had no idea what to do when Rey said things like that. It had only happened a couple times, but it was enough to make him wish he were a little cleverer, a little more flirtatious, a little braver. He’d send something back that would turn the tables on her, maybe test the waters, see if she continued on that thread.

Or maybe that was just how girls texted. He didn’t talk to a lot of women these days. Thirsty DMs that Hux filtered certainly didn’t count.

**_Haha I’ll keep that in mind._ **

He hated his response even as he pressed send. He also realized too late that he had effectively ended the conversation, but as he frantically tried to think of a follow-up question that would prolong their chat, she texted back.

_ Well i’ve never broken a bone so i guess you’ve got me beat there. There’s one never to be grateful for i guess _

She was kind to not ask anything about his dad, even though Ben had opened the door for her by bringing him up. Rey had mentioned that she had looked up Ben, so there was no way she didn’t know that he was Han Solo’s son.

**_Not an experience worth having._ **

_ It obviously hasn’t affected your ability to play in the long run _

**_True, but my mom was sure worried it would._ **

“Worried” was an understatement. Ben had had to return to the city, where his mother Leia had diligently shopped for an orthopedic surgeon who would take her fear for her son’s future as a musician as seriously as she did. Then Ben had to endure embarrassing appointments for months where his mom hounded the doctor, nurses, and physical therapists about lost practice time.

_ I’m surprised you even still like to play tbh _

_ I don’t know how I would have felt about music if it had been a chore _

**_I wanted to hate it,_ ** he admitted. He paused thoughtfully before typing a follow-up.  **_But I loved it too much._ **

_ I think i can kinda relate _

_ I mean, not really. We couldn’t be more different. but _

There was a brief pause where her typing bubbles appeared, disappeared, appeared again.

_ Music was technically a punishment for me _

_ I got into trouble growing up. I had to spend some time in a group home for troubled teens _

_ We had to do this music therapy, and the other girls bitched and moaned about it, but i was hooked _

_ The counselors all chipped in to buy me this secondhand guitar. They changed my life _

_ I couldn’t rebel against something i was born to do, you know? _

**_I’ve never thought of it that way, but you’re exactly right._ **

_ My subway stop is next _

_ Then I’ve got a walk and five stories to climb _

_ I’ll text you later, k? _

She usually ended by telling him she’d text him later, and it never stopped being excited.

**_Talk to you later._ **

**_Please be safe._ **

_ I won’t get shot you snob _

_ The murder per capita rate isn’t THAT high here _

**_That’s very comforting._ **

_ If i keep texting, it’s way more likely ill fall down a manhole _

Ben managed to resist texting back by imagining her getting hit by a bus if she kept looking down. He told himself that she’d text later; she hadn’t failed yet, but letting her go still always felt like the end.

Rationally, he knew he was going to see her in person the next day.

It was a terrifying thought. True, it wasn’t like they were going on a date, or even hanging out, or possibly even talking at all. She had invited him to listen to her play in a public park, where there would be crowds of people and her friends in tow.

He had to think that their meeting was a far more significant thing now after a week of talking than it had been when she had offhandedly invited him on Monday. 

But he was the world’s worst judge of reading women. He had a problem falling too hard, too fast.

That was what both of his girlfriends - if you could call them that - had told him when they had broken things off before they could really begin.

_ It’s too much, _ they’d say _. _

_ You’re too much. _

So he had pulled back. If he ever dated, which was rare, he limited things to one night, often sticking to cities he was visiting on tour so he’d have an excuse to never make contact again. It was an extreme reversal, but at least he didn’t have to see that pitying expression when he expressed his feelings.

With Rey, though, he could feel it happening again. He should have known from that first day where he stared at her cute smile and freckles on his computer screen, stunned by her talent. He should have been warned when he reached out, offering a collaboration for the first time in his entire career.

Part of him wanted to not go to their meeting at all and not subject himself to any disappointment. 

But a couple hours later, she texted him again, and he knew he’d go.

  
  


\---

  
  


Today’s crowd was unusually large. Rose had apparently decided it was time to start advertising Rey’s park “performances.” Normally, Rey just started playing somewhere and a crowd would grow, but today there was a large group waiting for her before she even showed up.

She tried not to be upset with Rose, who she knew was only trying to do the right thing, but today of all days, she didn’t want a thick crowd of people. 

Ben said he was coming, but she still felt nervous that he’d bail. Surely, a man like him had far more important things to do than hang out at a park, watching a busker take some requests.

He had certainly made plenty of time for texting her, though. It had been less than a week of talking, and she felt like she was already getting to know him. 

She had watched his videos more times than she’d care to admit, too.

Maybe it was stupid, but she liked him. She really liked him. She hadn’t told anyone about him, not even Rose, for fear that he wouldn’t even show up, but her crush was undeniable.

Was it possible to like someone you’d never even met? People fell in love on the internet all the time, right?

She scanned the audience for Ben’s dark-haired head. She must have searched longer than she thought, because she heard Finn’s impatient cough.

“Uh, hi, everyone,” she said, taking Finn’s cue. He and Rose both had their phones out, recording. “Thanks for coming today. I’ve never had so many people before, so I won’t get to you all, but I hope you’ll like my show.”

Her performance proceeded as normal, albeit a little crazier with so many people prepared with their favorite songs and requests. The session was especially easy, because most of the people here today, as opposed to the usual passers-by, actually followed her, and many had requests of songs that she had performed before.

If she’d performed it before, she’d remember it. It was a special gift she possessed. Once she heard something, she’d never forget it.

Every time she wrapped up a song, she searched the crowd ahead of her for as long as could reasonably be passed off as looking for her next requester.

After a couple more songs, a few people left, and the audience shifted as people filled their vacant spots. That was when she saw him behind a group of teenagers in the back. He was slumped, almost like he’d been hiding from view, but his black hair was unmistakable.

She stared his way and seemed to catch him by surprise as their eyes met. She couldn’t contain the smile that spread on her face. Her joy at finding him was more visceral than she had anticipated, and her heart gave a little lurch as his lips curled in response. He ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck, and Rey wished she were close enough to see if he had blushed, too.

She was ready for the crowd to disappear.

“What do you think, Finn?” she said, eyes still tracking Ben’s every movement. “Should we do one more song?”’

She thought she was being obvious to Ben, silently pleading for him to make his request, but he didn’t move. 

Ignoring the many raised hands, she made a decision and played a song of her own choosing. 

It was easy.

She had played it to herself all week.

Despite the distance, she could see the corners of his mouth twitch when he recognized the song.

Her stomach fluttered and she couldn’t help smiling in return.

She wondered what was going through his head.  _ Three Little Birds _ had been his mother’s lullaby, he had said. Was he thinking of his childhood? 

Or, like Rey, was he feeling the joy of finally seeing the other, face to face?

It seemed unlikely. 

But it was a nice thought.

She thanked the crowd as she finished, and Finn gamely stepped forward to do his spiel on supporting their channel. Better him than her. 

As he and Rose collected donations, Rey struggled to maintain sight of Ben in the shuffling audience. 

_ Don’t leave,  _ she silently begged. 

A group of girls circled her, asking for selfies and yelling out their online handles. She posed as quickly as was minimally polite and shook them off, telling them she was looking for someone.

She tried to be gracious as people continued to surround her and stuffed cash in their box or called out that they had made online payments.

In the excitement, she lost sight of Ben.

Finally, the only people left were her, Finn, and Rose. Her friends were immensely pleased with the cash they had brought in and the size and enthusiasm of the audience.

Rey reminded herself that she had Ben’s number. She could text him right then or anytime. They lived in the same city.

It wasn’t necessarily the end.

He had indicated a number of times during their conversations that he was shy, and it was no small wonder that he disappeared in the midst of all that social interaction.

A new thought struck Rey. What if he had thought she was no good? 

Or, what if he thought that she simply wasn’t pretty?

Or she looked too low class?

“What’s wrong, Rey?” said Rose, interrupting Finn mid-sentence at the sight of Rey’s face. 

“Uh, nothing,” she mumbled. “It’s the sun.”

“I’m always telling you to drink more,” scolded Finn, pulling out a water bottle and handing it to her.

“Let’s get out of the heat,” said Rose.

Rey had to admit that there was no reason to stick around. Feeling sadder than she’d care to admit, she picked up her guitar case and followed her friends.

She had only gone a few steps when a deep voice behind her made her stop short.

“Rey?”

\--

Ben still wasn’t certain how he had gotten from the park, where he had nearly chickened out and gone home before meeting Rey, to standing in line with her at the closest coffee shop they could find.

When he had called out to her before she left with her friends, the smile she awarded him gave him just enough courage to ask her if she’d like to grab a coffee. 

Her friends, as though trained, had slipped away, right along with his ability to speak past his initial question.

She was so beautiful, even lovelier than she was in her videos.

Thankfully, she had taken charge and led them to a cafe down the block. 

As they neared the front of the line, Ben managed to untie his tongue enough to tell her he’d pay for her drink. 

“Oh,” said Rey, clearly flustered for the first time. “But I was going to grab lunch. Those sandwiches look good. I haven’t had lunch yet.”

“Great,” said Ben. “That’s what I was planning to get, too.” 

_ It wasn’t. _

“I didn’t have lunch, either,” he added.

_ He had. _

“I’m starving.”

_ He wasn’t. _

“Well, okay, then,” said Rey, smiling again. “Although technically, it’s closer to dinner now .”

Ben attempted to calm himself down. “Dinner” seemed so much date-like than coffee, or even lunch. He hadn’t been on a proper date in over a year, before his last tour. 

Still, he managed to look at her and say, “Dinner it is.”

Once they had food and coffee in front of them, talking became easier. In fact, talking had never  _ been _ so easy. With anyone. 

Sometimes in his peripheral, Ben saw other cafe patrons come and go, but he didn’t know the time, unwilling as he was to even look at his watch or phone. 

He wouldn’t do anything that could indicate to Rey that there was anywhere on Earth he’d rather be than sitting in the top-small chair, across from her at the top-small table. 

Though they talked about a million silly things, the topic inevitably returned to music. 

“Who’s your favorite composer?” asked Rey after they had exchanged some of their favorite bands and albums.

“John Williams,” Ben responded instantly. Rey’s eyes widened, and she laughed brightly.

“Are you serious?”

“One hundred percent.” He paused. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing.” She giggled again. “Nothing. I just kind of expected something classical, or crazy pretentious. Not the guy who writes for Jaws and Harry Potter.”

_ Pretentious _ ?

“Those themes become part of our cultural lexicon. They’re the heart, the passion, of the movies we love. Most great movies wouldn’t be half as memorable without the music.” He sank back in his tiny chair dreamily. “I’d love to score a movie someday.”

“Really?”

“Uh, yeah.” He went to take a nervous sip of his coffee before remembering that his mug was long emptied. “I, um, don’t tell many people that.”

“I didn’t realize you composed.” 

“I do all my own arrangements, you know.”

“Yeah, I knew that, but they’re all covers. Not-” she added quickly, looking panicked “-that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“I actually majored in music composition at Juilliard,” he explained. “But I haven’t written anything original in eight years.”

“Why not?”

“I lost my muse.”

“Your what?”

“My muse.” Her face looked blank, so he explained, “You know, my inspiration? Someone who inspires you?”

“Oh.” She nodded, looking understanding. “A bad breakup?”

“Oh no,” he said quickly. “Just...what I called my inspiration. In my mind. It’s gone.”

“Wait, really?” Rey’s sympathetic face vanished, and she laughed in a way that was clearly  _ at _ him. “You can’t compose because some mystical inspiration in your brain...left?”

“It’s serious,” he insisted. “One day I woke up and my muse had fled. I’ve been stuck like that for years.”

“So you’re just waiting for it...her... _ it _ to come back?”

“Yes.”

“That’s absolutely insane!”

Ben shrank back, his eyes finding the floor, and Rey surged forward.

“I’m sorry,” she said earnestly, having wiped her Cheshire grin off. “I guess I don’t know how this all works. I’m not a real musician.”

“You are.” Though slightly wounded, Ben refused to allow Rey to go down that path. “You are a real musician. Don’t believe anything but.”

“That’s kind of you.” 

“I mean it, Rey. Untrained doesn’t mean untalented. Your performance this afternoon was excellent.”

His heart lurched as he remembered the way she had smiled in his direction as she played his mother’s lullaby, for him. 

It could not have been more perfect, not if she had been trained by the world’s greatest masters her entire life.

“Thanks.” She leaned in and changed the subject. “What’s your favorite John Williams score?”

“ _ Jurassic Park,”  _ he supplied easily. “It’s my favorite movie of all time.”

“Really?” Rey started laughing in apparent disbelief again. 

“I’m starting to wonder what your perception of me has been.”

“I know, I know!” She shook her head and tried to school her expression. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.” She waved her hand in his direction. “Julliard boy, native New Yorker, figured it’d be some art film I haven’t heard of, not a movie about dinosaurs.”

“It’s a perfect movie,” he defended vigorously. “It’s Spielberg at his best. He also did  _ Schindler’s List _ that same year, you know? Unreal. That’s another great John Williams score.”

“Why is it your favorite movie?” She leaned on her hands, giving him her full attention.

“Look, I was a kid, like five or six, when that movie came out. I wasn’t allowed to see it in the theater, but my mom let me watch it at home when it came out on video. Seeing it for the first time? It was life-changing. I’d never seen anything like it. And the music? It’s just brilliant.”

“So that movie made you want to be a composer, huh?”

“No,” he admitted. “I wanted to be a paleontologist. Every kid did.”

“You know, I’ve never seen the original,” she said. “I went on a date a while ago and saw one of the sequels, I guess? You know, with Chris Pratt? It was okay.”

It was not okay. 

Tamping down the unfair jealousy that sprang to him as he considered the idea of Rey on a date, he focused on the important issue.

“No,” he said emphatically, his hand held dramatically over his heart. “No. No. There is only one  _ Jurassic Park.  _ The sequels are garbage. You need to see the first one. It’s a classic.”

“Oh, is that so?” she asked, her eyes glinting with some kind of a challenge. 

If he wasn’t completely off-base, she was giving him an opening to invite her to continue their evening. But while an invitation to come to his apartment and watch the movie formed on his tongue, he couldn’t convince his voice to follow through.

“Well,” she said after an awkward pause, “I guess I better get going. We’ve been here for-” She pulled out her phone. “Oh, wow, three hours. You’re probably sick of-”

“Do you want to come to my apartment?” Ben blurted out, desperate not to miss his shot. “I mean, to watch the movie. Because you have to see it. Or we can go to yours. Or, never mind…” He felt his ears warm, and he subconsciously patted the hair that covered them. He realized that somehow in the apparently three hours they had sat talking, he had forgotten to be nervous around this stunningly beautiful girl. 

By some miracle, though, his outburst seemed to be what she had been hoping for.

Her face broke into a wide, beaming smile, and Ben’s heart was lost.

  
  



	3. Recipes and Rock Stars

Ben circled his apartment for the third time, although nothing had moved since his last inspection. He didn’t know why he was so nervous; this was the second time Rey had come to his apartment in the past week.

In fact, the first time he had brought her, she had instantly remarked on how spotless it was. It had been a relief after he had spent the whole taxi ride from the cafe wondering why he had impulsively invited her over. He was wholly unprepared to welcome any guest, much less a girl he had spent the week obsessing over, although it felt like much longer.

The whole afternoon had been a pleasant surprise.

At most he had hoped they'd have a cordial chat at the park after her show, but somehow they had ended up talking for three hours at a coffee shop, which became a movie at his place.

The movie had been...nice. He had felt like a teenager again, scared but determined to scoot a little closer, to wrap his arm around her.

But as it turned out, she was a movie talker. She had a lot of comments, and it seemed like every time he had gathered the nerve to touch her, she’d turn her head and make some remark about 90s fashion, the music, Jeff Goldblum’s gleaming chest…

Then the movie had ended and so had their night. Bitterly disappointed in his inability to even hug her good-bye, or ask her if she’d like to repeat the night, or shown any ounce of interest, he had sat in a state of self-loathing until he got a cheerful text from her telling him what a great time she had had and _asking him if he’d like to hang out again_.

A couple days after, she had texted him a link to a video she had uploaded of herself playing the Jurassic Park themes on her guitar.

He had already seen the video multiple times before he got her text, but would never admit to her how regularly he checked her various social media accounts.

The video had made him cry, but he wasn’t prepared to share that with her, either.

He had no idea when she had had time to do the video as she had worked every day since their evening together, and spent her off hours editing videos with her friends. Her busy schedule didn’t keep her from texting him constantly, though, a fact he appreciated immensely. They no longer needed to play their “Never Have I Ever” game as an excuse to make contact, but it still made its way into their conversations anyway.

Yesterday, she was texting him on her subway ride home, as she was wont to do, when he mentioned that he was making mango chicken fajitas for dinner.

_That sounds amazing,_ she had responded.

_I’ll probably have like ramen_

_Sure wish you could feed me too_

_Why do you have to live on the other side of the city?_

_You know…_

No, he didn’t know, he DIDN’T KNOW, and it took her six full minutes to continue her train of thought, not that he was watching the time or anything.

_Sorry, someone super chatty sat by me. They just got off_

He simultaneously despised and envied this faceless stranger.

_Anyway_

_I’ve never had a man cook for me_

Here was the clear opener he had been waiting nearly a week for.

**_Well, that’s pretty easily rectified._ **

_Oh really? Where could I find such a kind chef?_

**_You could try the other side of the city._ **

_Hmm, intriguing. I think I could swing it, but I’d have to have some advance warning to work it into my plans_

**_Could you work with one day?_ **

_:D :D I think I can_

  
  
  


So that left Ben, a day later, pacing his apartment, wondering whether he had tried too hard (they had never actually used the word “date”) or hadn’t done enough to prepare.

He was formulating ways to pretend that he had gotten held up and needed a second to change if she showed up dressed nicer than him when he heard her knock.

He checked through the peephole to find her dressed nicely, but not fancy, and took a calming breath before letting her in. 

She didn’t give him the chance to stress over whether to greet her with a hug because she stuck both arms in front of her, clutching a bottle of wine.

“It’s just Trader Joe’s,” she said, “but since you wouldn’t let me Venmo you for the groceries, I had to do something.”

“This is perfect, Rey.” He accepted the gift and made a note to hide the much more expensive bottle he had gotten.

In the kitchen, she perched herself on a stool and gave him a smirk, eyes sparkling.

“So?”

“So, what?” He smirked as he leaned his elbows on the island, waiting for her to continue. Now that she was here, talking to him face-to-face, he wondered what he had been so worried about since they last parted. She put him at ease.

It was truly unprecedented.

“Did you rise to my challenge?”

“What challenge was that?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Making my favorite food.”

“Ah.” He grinned, and perched the first bag of groceries on the island before dramatically reaching out and pulling out a box of elbow macaroni. She laughed and clapped her hands. 

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing it!”

“Well,” he said, “you can’t tell me that macaroni and cheese is your favorite food without me resolving to make you the best batch you’ve ever had.”

“A bold claim from The Soloist! I look forward to making my judgment.”

They chatted as he cooked the pasta and assembled the dish. While it was in the oven, they settled in the living room.

“You should play something,” she said after sinking onto the couch, gesturing at his baby grand. 

He wanted to sit close to her on the couch, but he nodded. “Play what?”

“I don’t care. Surprise me.”

He picked one of his pop/classical mashups at random, something he could play in his sleep after his last tour. Out of his peripheral, he could see her close her eyes and smile softly.

“That was nice,” she said dreamily after he released the final chord.

He slid off the bench. “I think it’s your turn.”

She didn’t seem to mind, taking his spot. “What should I play?”

“I don’t care. Surprise me.”

She grinned at him cheekily. After a moment, she played a familiar minor scale. He chuckled softly, memories of childhood piano lessons rushing back. She seemed to read his thoughts, calling out, “Are you getting war flashbacks?”

He laughed fully. “I don’t think I’ve played ‘Moonlight Sonata’ in at least fifteen years.”

“It’s a common request at my piano events,” she said, still playing her rendition of the melancholy melody. Ben knew it wasn’t exact, but it was still hauntingly beautiful. “Everyone expects you to know it, but I wasn’t exactly exposed to this stuff growing up.”

“Well, you clearly got it down.”

She smiled and finished the song, joining him on the couch.

“You really have a gift, Rey.”

“Thanks,” she said. “But I wish I could have some piano lesson horror stories of my own.”

“I could take you to some of my old professors or my mom’s associates,” he said thoughtfully. “To be honest, I almost hate what they might do to you and your sound. But if you wanted, I would.”

Her face softened. “Thank you, Ben.” She reached out her hand and rested it on his knee. “I-”

She was cut off by the sound of the kitchen timer. Instantly, she jerked up excitedly.

“Is it ready?”

“No.” He grinned at her. “That was my warning to get to the garlic bread.”

She placed her hand over her heart and batted her eyelashes. “You sure know how to spoil a girl.”

He tried to give her a charming smirk, but tripped on the end table.

\--

“All right,” said Rey, setting down her fork. “I’m ready to make my assessment.”

Ben looked meaningfully at her empty plate, she having practically licked it clean after her second helping.

She laughed. “Okay, you know I liked it. But you don’t know if it was the _best_ macaroni cheese I’ve ever had. You promised me the best.”

“And?”

She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “It’s a very close second to Kraft.”

“What?” Ben practically leaped to his feet in indignation, only to meet Rey’s sparkling eyes. “Oh. For a second there, I thought you were crazy.”

“Hey, don’t knock the orange stuff.”

“So mine _was_ the best.” 

“You’re looking a little smug,” she said. “I watched you make it, you know. You literally mixed cheeses and pasta. They’re not teaching that at the Cordon Bleu in Paris.”

“Plus the bread crumbs,” he pointed out haughtily.

She smiled fully. “Plus the bread crumbs.” She reached across the table to pat Ben’s hand. “I’m only teasing. This was incredibly nice. Never can I ever say I’ve never had a man cook for me again.” She scrunched her nose in confusion. “Did I get that right?”

She muttered the sentence to herself again and Ben took advantage of her distraction to grab her hand. Her voice cut off with a gasp, and she stared down at their hands before her eyes flicked up to meet his, surprised. His momentary panic subsided as her gaze softened and her lips curled up. 

He didn’t let go as he stood, pulling her up as well. He handed her her wine glass and walked them back to his living room couch. Reluctantly, he released her hand and returned to clean up.

He spent his whole cleanup cycle wondering if he’d have the guts to take her hand again, but his fears proved to be unfounded when he sat and she snuggled up against his side.

There was no way to be comfortable unless he reached out and put his arm around her shoulders, and to his relief, she sank deeper into him.

For a moment, they both sat in contented silence.

“Where did you learn to cook?” Rey asked eventually, craning her neck to look at his face.

He huffed. “I thought I just assembled ingredients?”

Nudging his side playfully, she said, “Well, forgive me for attempting a conversation topic.”

He chuckled and took a chance in raising his hand to her hair. When she didn’t flinch, he slid his fingers into the strands. “I’m not a particularly good cook,” he admitted, “but I can follow a recipe alright.”

“Did your mom cook with you much?”

Ben laughed outright at that. “She didn’t do much with me, period. I was raised by a series of nannies, all wannabe-professional musicians she knew through work. It was her way of making sure I practiced when she wasn’t home.”

“She sounds intense.”

“She is.” He paused, worried about what he wanted to ask her. She had mentioned having a troubled past back in England, but he still knew so little about her. “What about you? What are your parents like?”

“I dunno,” she said, and Ben froze combing through her hair. “They died when I was young in a car accident, then I became a foster kid, and later on, a ward of the good old English Youth Justice System. I told you that I discovered music while I was locked up, so it was the best thing that ever happened to me, really. I’m one of their few success stories, I’m afraid.”

He wanted to heap sympathy on her but somehow knew she wouldn’t like that. “What brought you out here?”

“Finn’s aunt and uncle were the last family I lived with, right before I aged out of the system. Finn and I became friends and they all helped me come over here. It was nice to feel wanted, for once.”

“I know a bit about feeling unwanted,” said Ben softly. “I’m the result of a one-night stand between a socialite groupie in a brief rebellious phase and a rock star.”

She sat up straight. “Rock star?”

“Wait.” Ben hesitated. “You don’t know who my dad is?”

“Should I?”

It was astounding if she was telling the truth. 

“Hold up,” said Rey, scrunching her eyebrows. “Solo… wait, _Han_ Solo? Like Millennium Falcon Han Solo?”

Ben rubbed his neck. “Uh, yeah.”

“Oh my gosh!” Rey clapped a hand over her mouth and fell backward on the couch dramatically. “I can’t believe this.”

“How did you not know? It’s right on my Wikipedia page, it’s mentioned in every interview I’ve ever given.”

“I didn’t read any of that stuff, especially once we started talking. Felt invasive, you know?”

“Right,” said Ben. 

If there had been any articles about Rey, he’d have them memorized by now.

She sat back up and rested her hand gently on his bicep. “I mean, I’ve watched all your videos of course.”

“There’s always a few people who mention my dad in every comment section.”

“Hey, I’m a Youtuber, too,” said Rey. “I know better than to read through comment sections.”

“But, but my name?” Ben was still shocked. “It’s usually a dead giveaway. It’s not a common name.”

Rey looked slightly guilty. “I’ll be honest. I kind of thought you made it up, like John Legend or something.”

“To be fair, it is made up,” said Ben. “Somehow my dad didn’t think that Hank Schleckenlopper didn’t give off the rock star vibe, so he changed his name when he left his hometown in Oklahoma.”

Rey’s eyes brightened. “So you’re actually Benjamin Schl...schleck…”

“Schleckenlopper. And no, he legally changed it. Thankfully.”

“What a shame,” said Rey, grinning. “But your dad wasn’t actually a soloist, though. There were other people in Millennium Falcon.”

Ben shrugged. “That I can’t explain.”

“So what was that like, having Han Solo as your dad?”

For weeks now, Ben had thought Rey uncommonly merciful for never bringing up his dad despite definitely knowing about him. His disappointment at that not being true, however, was superseded by the sudden joy that she had befriended him (or whatever this was) without any knowledge of the connection.

“I’ll be honest,” said Ben, “growing up, I kind of always thought of my dad as a blank check. My mom returned to her high society life and raised me on the Upper East Side, which wasn’t exactly my dad’s scene. I didn’t see him a lot as a kid, but he did make some effort. Like, I told you about our ill-fated summer together in the Hamptons.”

“The broken arm?”

“Wrist, yeah.” He shook his head. “That didn’t win him any favors with my mom, not that they were on great ground to begin with. But that wasn’t the worst thing he did to me.”

“Oh?” Rey’s eyes were wide, preparing for the worst. And actually, after what she had just admitted about her rough upbringing, he probably shouldn’t even joke around, but it was too late to stop now.

“Being Han Solo’s son made all my classmates think I would be much cooler than I am. I was a constant disappointment.”

He was relieved to see Rey laughing. “Yeah, that’s a tough one to live up to.”

“You’d think, huh? But here’s the secret - he’s not cool. He’s a dork.”

“I bet most people would say that about their dads.”

“It’s true, though. His best advice to me in high school to get girls was to learn guitar.” Ben rolled his eyes. “Not that he helped with that, of course. So I gave it a shot, you know, learned to play some songs to impress girls or whatever, but everyone wanted me to play my dad’s songs. Bugged the crap out of me.” He felt himself blushing. “And I was so bad at guitar. You know what, can we stop talking about this? It’s painful to remember.”

“I’ll bet you impressed more girls than you think you did.”

Ben’s cheeks were almost definitely crimson by now. “I’d never play around a natural like you,” he said. “You’d laugh me out of town.”

“Oh, stop.” She waved her hand. “I played piano for you.” He started to protest, but she returned to their earlier subject. “Do you see your dad much now?”

“Little bit. He only tours every few years now. He does those big outdoor summer concerts with like three other has-been bands at a time. But he mostly spends his time buying and obsessing over cars.”

“What does he think of your music?”

“He likes it. He’s really supportive, actually. A couple years ago, some late night show was having him on, and they wanted us to duet one of his songs. He still brings it up sometimes”

Rey seemed to share in his dad’s enthusiasm for the idea. “Are you going to do it?”

“No way. What would we do? I mean, what are Millenium Falcon’s two biggest hits? There’s ‘Qi’ra Sue,’ which is about backseat sex with his high school girlfriend, or ‘Endor Bliss,’ which I’m lucky enough to know is about the night I was conceived.” Rey laughed so hard that his lips curled in spite of it all as he added, “So yeah. Hard pass.”

It took Rey a while to calm down enough to speak. “I get asked to play ‘Endor Bliss’ all the time. I think it’s tainted now.”

“Tell me about it.”

“That’s not even close to Millennium Falcon’s only hits, though,” she pointed out. “But I guess I don’t blame you. And now I see where your composition skills come from.” He tried to cut in so she added hastily, “Well, what _were_ your composition skills before your mystical ‘muse’ ran off with the milkman.”

“Very funny.”

She curled back up against him and laid her hand on his chest, making his heart start up again. “I’m just kidding. I’m sure it’s in there. And if you have any compositions recorded from school, I’d love to hear them sometime.”

Ben loved the idea of a “sometime” with Rey.

He was beginning to love the idea of a lot of “sometimes” and “somedays.” It was early, far too soon to vocalize any of this (something he’d learned the hard way), but it warmed his heart to know that she was maybe thinking about the future, too.

“What about your mom? You’ve said she’s a musician, too?”

Ben pretended to scowl at her. “What kind of interrogation is this?”

“Isn’t this what you do on dates? Get to know each other?”

Oh.

Well, okay.

“Yeah,” said Ben, feeling confident enough now to wrap his arm around her again. “Okay, my mom. So, she got knocked up while chasing Millenium Falcon all over the country during one of her summers off from Julliard. She was studying opera. Thanks to a ton of family money and her very rich baby daddy, having me didn’t stop her from having an opera career. She performed all over the world the whole time I was growing up. About ten years ago, she retired from performing and turned to the creative side.”

“Wow, an opera singer and a rock star for parents,” said Rey. “I’m kind of getting where the classical-pop fusion comes from in all your music.”

“They’ll both tell you that their influence is stronger,” said Ben, chuckling.

“I’ve never seen an opera,” confessed Rey, “nor do I know anything about it, really.”

That was another “never” that Ben could easily eliminate.

“Would you like to?” he asked, trying not to sound too eager.

“I mean, yeah, you know I want to learn about all music, but…” She paused before speaking in a rush. “Does the Met do lottery tickets like on Broadway? I won it once, you know. Got to see _The Lion King_ for like, thirty bucks. It was awesome.”

“Rey.” Ben smiled at her and took her hand. “My mom is the artistic director at the Met. I can usually get comp tickets from her.”

“Oh.”

“You know what?” Ben leaned forward and plucked his phone off the coffee table. “I’ll see what’s playing. They close down for the summer but they should still be performing now.” He scrolled for a minute and smiled. “Ah. _La Boheme._ That’s perfect for you.”

“Why?”

“It’s basically the most famous opera. It’s a good one for a first-timer, like Opera Lite.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely,” said Rey. “You know, I’m surprised your mom pushed you so hard on piano. Seems like she’d want you to be a singer. And your dad is a singer, too.”

Ben shuddered. “Unfortunately, I learned at a very young age that singing in public terrifies me. I feel much more comfortable behind the piano.”

“I see,” said Rey, snuggling into his side again. “You’ll have to sing for me someday, though. There’s no way you can’t.”

_Someday._

“Okay.” 

She hummed, a sign that she was getting tired. Ben couldn’t blame her after the week she’d had, working constantly and also creating and uploading her videos. He knew he should let her go, but he wasn’t ready to say good-bye.

“Do you want to watch something?” he asked.

“Sure. What do you want to watch?”

He groaned. “No, you pick. I have all the streaming services, basically.”

She thought for a moment and said, “Let’s stick with the John Williams theme. I’m sure we can find something.”

They turned _E.T._ on Netflix, but Rey was out cold twenty minutes later. It couldn’t have been more different than the night where she talked his ear off the whole film, but he wasn’t going to complain about having her in his arms for the length of the film.

As the credits rolled, he nudged her gently. She opened her eyes groggily, looking around, confused.

“Why’d you turn the movie off?”

“It’s over.”

Her eyebrows knit. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

He smiled gently. “You were dead to the world. Here, I ordered you a car. It should be here in a couple minutes.”

Earlier in the night, Ben had imagined himself finding the courage to leave Rey with a good-bye kiss, but instead, he helped a half-asleep Rey down to the curb to meet her car. She gave him a wobbly hug around his middle and he in turn gave her a kiss on the top of the head that he wasn’t even sure she noticed.

As she climbed in the Uber, he called out, “I’ll let you know about the opera.”

The smile she gave him through the window before she drove off made everything okay. 

They didn’t need to rush. He was almost certain she was interested, and they had another date (date!) for him to get things just right.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This chapter was supposed to cover their opera date, but it got long because you all know by now how much I love dialogue. We'll get these two duet-ing in more ways than one soon!
> 
> LINKS!
> 
> John Williams recently conducted a concert with the Vienna Philharmonic and they performed a rendition of "Jurassic Park" that is absolutely stunning. Watch [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-NqaupGcCpw)
> 
> Here is what I imagine Rey's rendition sounded like - watch [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-gOkJqn9zps)
> 
> If you love John Williams as much as I (obviously) do, one of my favorite podcasts dedicated an episode to the music of Star Wars. It includes the line "J Will is a Reylo shipper," so yeah. Listen [here.](https://www.theringer.com/2019/11/15/20967549/john-williams-star-wars-score-sounds)


	4. Lace and Lasagna

Two days later, Rey frowned at the text message Ben had sent. She knew he had wanted to take her to  _ La Boheme _ , but she hadn’t expected it would be so soon.

_ Is there any way you could do Thursday evening?”  _ he’d texted her.  _ “My mom can’t give me weekend tickets. I’d just buy some for Friday but I promise hers are better. Let me know.” _

She had assured him that Thursday was perfect, but inwardly, she was panicking. 

A Google search assured her that there was no official dress code at the Metropolitan Opera, but the search had also produced countless photos of glamorous people in fancy evening wear. Armed with the knowledge that she and Ben had “good seats” and that Ben’s mother was somehow involved, Rey felt pressure to look the part.

She still couldn’t wrap her mind around Ben’s strange background and unbelievable pedigree. 

What he could possibly see in her, she couldn’t begin to understand.

Still, though, she liked him too much to not give things a chance. 

She had an idea and waited for the store to get less busy before she called out to her boss.

“Hey Unkar, I’ve got some things to take to Maz.” It was a lie, but she moved quickly so he wouldn’t see that she was only holding her jacket.

Plutt scowled. “Don’t be gone longer than an hour.”

Surprised and pleased with her success, Rey nearly skipped the four blocks to Takodana Castle, the vintage clothing shop that Rey sometimes consulted with when Plutt’s shop received clothes. She pushed open the door, setting off a bell and alerting the tiny owner to her presence.

“Rey Niima!” she called out from where she was dressing a mannequin.

“Hi, Maz,” said Rey.

“What do you have today?” she asked.

“Well, actually…” Rey came over and showed her empty arms. “I don’t have anything from the store. I’m kind of here for me.”

“Oh!” Maz clapped her hands, clearly delighted. “What can I do for you, my dear?”

“Well, um,” Rey stuttered, not sure how optimistically to label her evening with Ben. “I’m going to the Metropolitan Opera. I think it’s a date, but I’m not certain.”

“You’re not certain?”

“I mean, I think it is? He got the tickets, but I think he got them for free. I don’t know if he’s labeling the evening.”

Maz shook her head. “You young people and your hangouts and hookups and whatnot. In my day, if a boy picked you up and took you out, that was a date.”

“We’ve hung out a couple times,” said Rey, ignoring Maz’s ‘tsk’ at the term, “but he hasn’t kissed me or anything.”

The front door bell rang, and Maz yelled out to someone else to deal with it before turning her attention back to Rey.

“Do you want him to?” asked Maz.

“To what?”

“Kiss you of course.”

“Oh.” Rey blushed. “Yes. I like him. I talk to him all the time. I want to know that he likes me back.”

Maz looked amused at Rey’s middle school dilemma, but she gently patted Rey on the arm. “Let’s find something that will knock the socks off him.” She led Rey through a maze of racks, muttering as she went. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to the Met, but as I recall, there’s always a scale of formality.”

“I need to look like I fit in,” interrupted Rey. Maz turned and looked at her shrewdly, and Rey sank back slightly. “Ben - the guy I’ve been see- I mean, talking to - he grew up going to these things. His mom practically owns the Met as far as I can tell.”

For a moment, Rey could nearly see her face reflected in the enormous black-rimmed glasses that no seventy-plus-year-old woman should be able to pull off for how long Maz stared at her.

“Dear child,” she said eventually, “the belonging you seek is not in wears or wheres. It is ahead, in whos.”

Rey was grateful that Maz took that moment to tug Rey deeper into the clothing racks and therefore didn’t see the look of extreme confusion on her face.

\--

It turned out that Maz was a very picky stylist. Rey took to glancing at her phone’s clock nervously between dress selections, all of which she thought were perfectly adequate, especially the ones under a certain price threshold.

Maz certainly didn’t agree, though. She’d cluck her tongue whenever Rey came out of the dressing room and disappear into the racks again.

Maz’s employee Kaydel joined them as Rey modeled a deep purple gown. The two highly fashionable women stared at Rey critically long enough to make her uncomfortable even without the crippling time constraint.

Kaydel tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Put her in the black Dior we have in the window.”

“Oh, there’s no need-” Rey began to protest, but Maz’s eyes lit up from behind her frames before she and Kaydel disappeared, cutting Rey off.

Rey stepped back into the dressing room to peel off another rejected gown, feeling guilty about all the fuss Maz was making over her. She had come hoping Maz would just direct her to the clearance bin.

She made up her mind to tell Maz she didn’t want the dress Kaydel had suggested, no matter what it looked like. While Rey didn’t know designers, she did work in a second-hand retail shop and knew what the store display window meant.

“Rey, dear,” called out Maz from the other side of the dressing room door.

Rey took a breath. “I really don’t think I should…”

Kaydel and Maz both booed, and Maz opened the door just enough to stuff the dress through. Rey was forced to grab the hanger to keep the dress from hitting the floor, and she couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her.

The dress was beautiful. It was made of delicate black lace, with a straight off-the-shoulder top, elbow-length sleeves, and an A-line midi skirt.

Rey deliberately avoided reading the price tag. Just pulling it on wouldn’t hurt, would it? She was already on track to be late to return to work and get a scolding.

The dress fit perfectly. Of course it did. She stepped out of the dressing room and turned for Kaydel to finish pulling up the zipper. 

Maz clapped her hands. “It was made for you!” Kaydel bobbed her head in agreement.

Facing the mirror, Rey couldn’t help but agree. She looked like Kate Middleton on the covers of all the gossip rags back home. She looked like Audrey Hepburn in  _ Breakfast at Tiffany’s. _

She looked like the kind of girl who had any business being on Ben Solo’s arm.

“You wear that, and you’ll know it’s a date by the end of the night,” said Maz. “That’s my guarantee.”

“I can’t,” said Rey, before stopping to swallow around the sudden lump that rose in her throat. She glanced awkwardly at Kaydel, who seemed to understand and slipped away graciously. When she was out of sight, Rey mumbled, “I’m sorry, but there’s no way I can afford this.”

Maz’s glasses-magnified eyes widened even further, and Rey had to restrain herself from shutting hers in embarrassment. 

But then Maz laughed.

“Of course you can’t, dear,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Rey didn’t know whether to feel relieved or more embarrassed. “There’s no way that horrible Unkar Plutt pays you what you deserve.”

“Oh.” Rey was confused. “So…”

“So you will wear this dress for your date, and bring it back to me after, agree?”

“Oh no,” protested Rey, but Maz waved her hand.

“I know you’ve got that Youtube thing and all those followers. You’ve got followers on the Instagram, too, no?”

Rey nodded.

“Kaydel-” Maz jabbed a thumb in the direction where Kaydel was helping a new customer - “has my shop on the Internet. I don’t know about those things, but she goes to Parsons and says it’s a must-have for anyone in fashion. She brings in all those so-called  _ ‘influencers’ _ and has them flaunt around in my clothes, posing all over the city. Says it’s ‘advertising.’ If they can do it, then you can do it, too.”

Rey couldn’t help but chuckle at Maz’s derisive speech, despite the fact that she, herself, could reasonably be considered a social media influencer.

“You just promise you’ll put up your picture on the Instagram or Snap or whatever you kids use, and put my shop’s tag on it.”

“Absolutely,” said Rey, grinning. She reached out to hug the tiny woman. “Thank you, Maz.”

After Rey had assured her that she had proper shoes to match (that was a stretch, but Rey couldn’t accept more), Maz helped her pack up the dress in an inconspicuous garment bag so Rey wouldn’t get a double-telling off when she returned late to Plutt’s shop.

“Have a lovely time,” said Maz, holding the front door.

“Thank you,” Rey said again. 

“Rey!” Kaydel called out from where she was adjusting the waistline on a customer’s dress. Through the pins between her teeth, she said, “Red lipshtick.”

“Red lips at the beginning of the night,” said Maz, “leads to red lips at the end of the night, if you know what I mean.”

“Yep,” said Rey quickly. She hurried out of there before Maz could continue on that thread, feeling much better about her night with Ben than she had an hour ago.

\--

  
  


Adorned in the prettiest dress she had ever worn, decorated in the most-reasonably-priced red lipstick Duane Reade had to offer, and standing in newly polished black pumps she had gotten at Asda years before, Rey waited anxiously for Ben to pick her up.

She had had to fight to get out of work early enough to get ready. Plutt was already in a sour mood due to her extended visit to Maz, but when Ben had texted asking if she wanted to get dinner together before the show, Rey was incapable of saying no.

So she had gathered her nerve, begged Plutt to leave early, and promised extra weekend hours to make up for it. Miraculously, he had agreed.

She had tried to convince Ben to let her meet him at the restaurant, but he wouldn’t hear of it. She wasn’t thrilled about him seeing her neighborhood, building, or flat, but she supposed that it would be better to get it all over with now. If they continued seeing each other, he’d come by sooner or later.

She had gotten ready alone, as her roommate was working and she didn’t want to call Rose. What Rose knew, Finn would soon know, and for now, Rey wanted to keep Ben her secret.

At least until she knew where she stood with him.

Finn and Rose had been kind enough not to question why Rey had randomly wanted to film a video of the  _ Jurassic Park _ theme the week before. 

It had been the best way Rey could think of to thank Ben for their first evening together. 

She had planned to thank him for their second night together with a kiss, but like an idiot, she had fallen asleep during their movie and had only been able to muster the nerve and energy to give Ben a stupid good-bye hug as he sent her off. 

Nervously, she pulled her phone out of the clutch she had borrowed from her roommate and turned on the forward-facing camera to reexamine her make-up job. She made sure she had her lipstick with her to reapply after dinner.

Tonight had to be the night. It just had to.

She needed him to know how she felt.

Feeling jittery, she thought of an excuse to text him, just to reassure herself that he truly was coming.

**_Hey, i forgot to tell you, the door to my building sticks a little bit. Give it a twist and then shove with your body weight and it will give_ **

**_Or i could just meet you outside_ **

His response was almost instantaneous.

_ No you stay inside. I think I can handle the challenge. _

_ I will be there in about five. _

She beamed.

**_I think your shoulders are more than up to the challenge. ;)_ **

He didn’t respond, and she could imagine the blush that must have spread on his neck and up to the ears that she could sometimes see when he brushed his hair back nervously.

He was simply adorable.

Right on cue, five minutes later, he knocked on the door. She pulled it open, prepared with a joke about him managing to conquer the evil apartment building door but swallowed her words when she saw his mouth fall open.

He snapped it closed and shook his head a tiny bit. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she said back, suddenly shy. He looked dashing, dressed to perfection in one of the dark suits he wore in the videos where she had first seen him.

The in-person view was infinitely better, where she could fully appreciate his height and breadth.

“Looks like you were able to handle the door,” she finally managed to tease, pretending to measure his arms with her hands.

He laughed and rubbed his neck with his free arm. “I think you played it up a bit too much,” he said. “I pushed so hard I nearly fell through.”

“Sure wish I could have seen that,” said Rey, grinning. “I swear I wasn’t setting you up, though.”

“Oh, I believe you.” His small smile showed that he was loosening up from his initial stunned silence when she had opened the door. “Someone as tiny as you must fight battle every time you enter the building.”

“Hey!” she cried. “I’m not tiny.”

He cocked an eyebrow and sized her up with his eyes, which made her self-conscious again.

“Do I look all right?” she asked seriously. “I’ve never been to Lincoln Center.” 

Ben huffed out what seemed to be an indignant noise. “Rey,” he said earnestly, “you look…” He released another long breath. “You look perfect.”

Relieved and buoyed by his approval, Rey took one of his hands and moved them to the hallway.

“I’d give you the grand tour of my flat but you could pretty much see all of it from the door. Plus,” she added, “we better get down before your cabbie gets carjacked.”

Ben froze. “You think-“

Laughing, she tugged his arm. “I’m kidding.” Then she paused as she pretended to think. “The muggings don’t usually start for another hour at least.”

She relished his horrified expression before she slid her hand down to clasp his and hurried them out to their thankfully-untouched cab.

\--

Unsurprisingly, Ben selected a restaurant far away from Rey’s neighborhood.

“Italian,” he explained, “because I know you love pasta.”

It was a perfect choice, fancy but not overly so, with a menu full of meals she had actually heard of. Ben handled their drink orders, which she was grateful for. However, with the way he scrutinized the wine list, it made her slightly embarrassed at the cheap wine she had brought over to his apartment.

What had he thought of her taste?

Immediately, she reminded herself that Ben had never made her feel inferior (other than thinking she lived in Crime Alley, which she was willing to attribute to his concern for her safety more than mere snobbery). She needed to get out of her head and enjoy what Maz would call a date.

After a lovely dinner that she spent alternating between enjoying Ben’s company and the delicious food and worrying about spilling on her expensive borrowed dress, she held her breath as Ben stuck his black credit card in the leather check holder.

She instinctively knew there was no way he’d let her cover her meal, and the internal fight between gratitude and awkwardness had her jumping out of her seat.

“Just gonna pop into the loo for a minute,” she said without waiting for a response.

In the restroom, she checked her teeth, eyeliner, dress, and hair, and reapplied her lipstick. Once she was sure enough time had passed for Ben to settle the tip and check, she stepped out.

He was standing nearby, leaning against the wall and looking so handsome that she had to remind herself that he was, in fact, her date.

“Lincoln Center is only a few blocks away,” he said, holding out his arm. “Care to walk?”

“It’s too nice an evening not to,” she agreed. “I think my feet can handle it.”

His eyes darted down. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She guided him out forcefully. “I promise I’m fine. Talk to me in a few hours.”

“You swear you’ll tell me if you’re the least bit uncomfortable?”

She couldn’t hide her grin at his concern as she assured him she would. After a couple blocks, she froze mid-step.

“Oh,” she said.

“What is it?”

“I, uh.” She felt dumb but decided that honesty was the best course. “Well, the thing is, I borrowed this dress from this shop owner I know, and she wanted me to post myself wearing it on Instagram, like a sponsored post I guess.” She reached into her clutch. “So could you snap a picture of me real quick?”

“Here?” He looked at the city block dubiously.

“It’s fine,” she said in a rush, slightly embarrassed.

“Wouldn’t you rather be in front of the fountain?”

“Fountain?”

His face lit up. “That’s right, you’ve never been here.” She shook her head, and he grabbed her hand. “You’re in for a treat.”

He sped up their pace, and Ben pulled her into the Lincoln Center plaza, where she could see crowds gathering outside a lovely building that she gathered was the Met Opera House. The setting sun reflected off the large glass, making everything sparkle. In front of it was a beautiful, brightly lit fountain. Ben squeezed her hand as she took everything in.

“Such a beautiful girl deserves a beautiful backdrop,” he said.

She blushed hard but quipped, “Did you think of that as we were walking over here?”

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” he replied seriously, and her stomach fluttered. “Here.” He guided her to the edge of the fountain and took a step back, opening her phone’s camera and looking at it critically.

She felt self-conscious as some people stepped away respectfully. Ben glared at a couple of lingerers, who quickly dispersed under his height and dark expression.

“Okay, right there,” he said. 

This was much easier when Rose was behind the camera in a back alley or crowded park. She posed a bit stiffly as Ben snapped away, acting like there was no task more important on Earth than getting the perfect shot.

He met her eyes and her hesitant smile became more natural. She shifted her position, placing her hand on her hip and turning slightly towards the water, the way she’d seen countless bloggers do.

A nearby couple made motions like they wanted to take her spot for a picture of their own, and Rey hurried back to Ben. A few people looked their way, some charmed, some clearly annoyed. Rey ignored all of them and took her phone back from Ben, scrolling through the photos quickly.

“Ooh, portrait mode,” she said. “The man knows his iPhone camera!”

“I think there’s a couple good ones,” he said almost apologetically. “I mean,  _ I _ thought they were all perfect. How could they not be?” His eyes settled on her significantly.

The butterflies in her stomach took flight again, and she tried to diffuse the tension before she melted right onto the pavement. “You know, there’s a name for what you just were,” she said playfully. “I read an article about it once. You were my Instagram Husband.”

“Wh- your what?” he sputtered, all smoothness gone.

“Instagram Husband,” she repeated, enjoying his reaction. “The man behind the zillions of photos a social media influencer has to take to get the perfect photo.”

He chuckled, rubbing his quickly-reddening neck. “Anytime.”

The crowd around them began moving toward the opera house, and Ben and Rey followed suit. She couldn’t take her eyes off everything around her, the architecture, the glamorous patrons, the theater’s decor. 

As they had walked over, Ben hadn’t been able to believe that she had never even walked by Lincoln Center in the years she had lived in New York, but it hadn’t been on her radar. Ben, on the other hand, had practically been raised in this very square. Not only had his mom performed here his entire life, but he had attended Julliard right across the street.

He had an anecdote for everything she pointed out, including the box seats where they finally settled in for the show.

“This is amazing,” said Rey, admiring their view of the stage.

Ben reached into his suit jacket pocket and produced a small, fancy pair of binoculars.

“Opera glasses,” he explained. “You can use them during the show.”

“Hm.” She took the glasses and examined them. “You said your mom gave you these tickets?”

“Um, yeah?”

“What are the chances your mom is somewhere here, watching us through a pair like these right now?”

“Ah.” He combed through his hair. “It’s, uh, it’s high. But,” he added hastily, “she promised she’d leave us alone.”

Rey practiced with the glasses and pretended to look carefully through the audience, seeking out a spy. As much as she teased, inwardly she was proud that Ben would take her out in public in a setting that even his mother had access to. That had to mean something. 

She tried to commit every inch of the vast theater to memory until the lights dimmed.

The show was beautiful. She loved everything, from the orchestration to the vocal performances to the costumes. 

She’d be willing to admit that opera wasn’t her favorite style of music, but she couldn’t deny the majesty of it. The story was heart-wrenching, too, and had her misty eyed a number of times.

The greatest parts of all, though, were whenever Ben would take her hand.

A few times, their fingers intertwined.

She wondered about the zoom capacity on his mother’s opera glasses.

  
  


\--

  
  


“I’m so glad you liked it,” said Ben as they walked outside the theater. The spring night air was chilly, but she tried to avoid allowing her bare shoulders to shiver. She didn’t want Ben to try to cut anything short on her behalf.

“I really did.” She took his hand as they meandered around the square, admiring the fountain. “Best part was seeing Ben Solo cry, though.”

“Anyone who doesn’t cry when Mimi dies has no heart.”

“I’m sure plenty of people have managed it.”

They continued to debrief the show as Ben showed her around Lincoln Center and took her inside Julliard. He would have shown her more of the Opera House, he explained, but, you know,  _ my mom. _

Eventually, Ben acknowledged the late hour and Rey’s work the next morning and ordered an Uber.

“Why don’t you have a car?” she asked bluntly.

“Lots of New Yorkers don’t have cars.”

“I know, but you’re-” She stopped herself before she said “rich,” even though it was obvious where her thoughts had gone.

He took it in stride. “I’m on the road a lot. It’s a pain to worry about a car, especially here in the city. I enjoy driving my dad’s cars when I visit, though.”

He checked his phone.

“Car’s five minutes away,” he said. His tone changed to something weighty. “Hey,” he said, making Rey’s heart pound and her eyes latch on his. “I’m happy we saw  _ La Boheme _ because I’ve been thinking a lot about our collaboration.”

It was like he had poured a bucket of ice water on her head. 

She had forgotten all about their collaboration, the entire reason he had ever reached out to her in the first place.

He continued. “Like I told you, I really love ‘Musetta’s Waltz.’” He had nudged her during the show and whispered that it was one of his all-time favorite songs. “So I thought if I played that, and you played another romantic song, we could make something really beautiful.” He paused. “Rey?”

She was frozen. Shame flooded her. 

She couldn’t believe she had been so stupid. She had allowed her heart to get carried away from the moment she had first started talking to him and been utterly charmed.

He had gotten to know her so they could make a damn video. He had taken her to the show so she could hear a stupid song.

“Rey?” His voice had grown more urgent.

She shook her head and pasted on a smile. “Yeah,” she said brightly. “The collab. Got it. Sounds great.”

“Are you okay?” 

She tried not to get choked up at the genuine concern in his voice. 

_ It’s not like that, _ she told herself sternly.

“I’m fine,” she said, grateful to see their Uber pulling up to the curb. He had told her he’d ride home with her, which was unnecessary but had made her feel warm inside. But now she’d take it alone. She’d pay Ben back for the ride if she needed to. 

However, before she could duck in and disappear from this humiliation, Ben hurried over and said something to the driver, who nodded.

Ben took her hand and pulled her into a more secluded spot.

“You’re not fine,” he said, trying to meet her skittish eyes. “Did I do something? Say something? Please tell me. I’m so sorry.”

She was afraid to speak, afraid of what her voice would sound like if she did. After a lifetime of steeling herself against a cruel world, it was embarrassing that she could be undone by a simple romantic miscommunication.

“Please,” he added softly. “I can’t end the night with you upset.”

All she wanted to do was get home, rip off her uncomfortable, cheap shoes and absurd dress, and pretend the past few weeks had never happened.

She couldn’t go through with a professional relationship with Ben, not when she had fallen so fast.

She might as well end things now. She’d look like a fool, but at least he’d leave her alone.

“I, um.” She swallowed. “I kind of forgot about the whole collaboration thing.”

“That’s it?” asked Ben. “We don’t have to do anything. I was just thinking out loud.”

“But that’s why we’ve been doing all this, isn’t it? Why you DM’d me on Instagram?”

“Shit, Rey.” He grabbed her shoulders desperately before loosening his grip and rubbing his thumbs gently on her exposed skin. “That was hardly… Look, I used the collaboration as an excuse to DM you. I just… well, I just wanted to meet you.”

Her breath caught.

“Really?” she whispered.

“Yes.” He lifted one hand to rub her cheek before sliding it into her hair. She closed her eyes, leaning into the touch. “I was excited to share  _ La Boheme  _ with you because I love the music and yes, I thought maybe we could use it for a video. But I wanted to take you out tonight because I’d spend every minute with you if I could.”

She opened her eyes to stare at him in disbelief.

“I guess I got carried away in a daydream about filming with you in Paris. I want everyone to hear your music, and selfishly, I’d love to take you there. But you don’t have to do a thing you don’t want to.”

A smile crept on her face.

“Paris?”

His shoulders slumped in apparent relief, before he pulled her closer. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Paris.”

Instinctively, she licked her lips. His eyes followed her movement.

“I’d really like to kiss you now. Is that okay?”

She couldn’t speak but bobbed her head, and his lips were on hers. 

Everything around her disappeared, the dusty alleyway, the night air, the shooting pain in her toes. 

There was only Ben, his warm body pressed against her and his soft lips gently massaging hers. Never had a kiss made her feel so safe and warm.

She was dizzy with the sensations when he pulled away gently, not releasing her from his grip. She wasn’t sure if her legs even worked at that point.

He rested his forehead against hers, their noses barely touching.

“I was going to do that on your doorstep,” he admitted. 

“I was hoping you would.”

“I still can.” The look he gave her had her knees wobbly again.

“We better get going, then,” she said, nodding in the direction of their parked Uber.

“Eh.” Ben shrugged. “He knows there’s cash for him if he doesn’t pull away. But you’ve been shivering for a good half hour now, so let’s move.”

“Have not,” she replied indignantly.

“You definitely have,” he said, kissing her shoulder, making her shiver for a different reason. “Next time when I offer my jacket, you can just admit you’re cold.”

“Next time, huh?” 

“I mean.” He looked panicked. “If you want to.”

“Ben.” She pulled to her aching toes and gave him another kiss. “Of course I want a next time.”

-

Ben kept his promise about giving her a doorstep kiss, and Rey spoke on an impulse she had had during the car ride home.

“Come inside,” she whispered. Before he could misinterpret, she added, “For just a few minutes.”

He nodded and followed her in.

She sat him down on her old couch, grateful that her roommate was out. 

“Hang on.” She slipped into her bedroom, kicked off her shoes, and picked up her guitar. She returned and sat opposite him.

“You said you wanted me to think of a romantic song,” she said. ‘This is the best one I know. People request it all the time. I think I’ve got it down.”

She closed her eyes, feeling slightly awkward, and focused on her music as she began her rendition of “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” She grew more comfortable as she went and eventually opened her eyes to find Ben staring at her like she was bringing him music for the first time after a lifetime of silence.

She knew her playing wasn’t that good, but her cheeks warmed under the attention anyway.

She lifted her fingers after her final note.

“What do you think?” she asked self-consciously. He’d of course heard her play before, but the intimacy of the moment had made her unusually nervous. 

“Rey.” He took the guitar from her and gently set it against the wall. He pulled her to her feet and placed both hands on her cheeks. “That was beautiful. You’re beautiful. I can’t believe this is happening.”

She knew what he meant. 

“Do you think you could work it in?” she asked.

He gave her a soft kiss. “Why don’t you come over after work tomorrow, bring your guitar, and we’ll play together.”

“Sounds perfect.” She laid a hand on his chest. “You better get out there before this Uber ride costs more than one of your dad’s cars.”

He laughed. “And we’re well into mugging time, right?”

“This late? We’ve moved to murder.”

She shooed him out with one last kiss, finally feeling like their evening had ended exactly the way she had hoped it would.

_ No, _ she thought.  _ It was better. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LINKS!
> 
> [Revson Fountain at Lincoln Center](https://offmetro.com/ny/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/Revson-Fountain_Photo-by-Mark-Bussell-e1528295725280.jpg)
> 
> "Musetta's Waltz" - [Ben's rendition](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=727ZhCsxIQs)  
> *You'll recognize the tune if you're familiar with the musical Rent, which is basically a modern AU of La Boheme
> 
> "Can't Help Falling in Love" - [Rey's rendition](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LNvOIgZi5VQ)
> 
> I listened to these two songs non-stop as I wrote this chapter and they'll continue to be important in our story's conclusion.


End file.
